The rage within, Damen could do little about. There were years upon years of loathing (self and otherwise), rejection, and isolation to fuel it, the encroaching fingers of despair to fan its flames. And Laurent threw every bit of kindling he could find onto the fire.

Released, he studied the etching on the flagon again, pointedly not meeting Laurent's eyes. They goaded him to do what terrible things they both knew he was capable of. The gold of the cup winked at him, the reaching satyr gleaming impishly.

Damen curled his other hand until he felt the pinpricks where his claws had dug in as he'd watched Laurent bring life to a section of his roses. There was more than cruelty in this man, just as there was more in his own heart. "You see what you wish to see. You refuse to consider any other possibility besides what you have already decided to believe. There is truth beyond, if you only opened your eyes."

He would not give Laurent the satisfaction of seeing him break and personify that monster in deed. Even if there was rage in him, it did not have to control him. He could still master it, while his heart remained human, while his roses still lived.